


seasonally challenged

by Serpents_Cradle



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha Flower, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Knotting, M/M, Omega Tanger, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rutting, Shower Sex, copious amounts of French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpents_Cradle/pseuds/Serpents_Cradle
Summary: If there was one thing that was considered to be a universal truth of hockey, it was that goaltenders were fucking weird. They almost had to be, to let people shoot frozen rubber discs at them for a living, but it was true nonetheless. It was like they all followed their own secret set of rules.Alpha Goalies were a whole different animal. Their ruts seemed to last longer than even the moodiest forwards’, and they always seemed to select one specific person to spend their rut with. Flower stood out in this way—the netminder had never come to him specifically, but Kris had heard enough from Sid and Jake to make an educated guess about his mating tendencies.





	seasonally challenged

**Author's Note:**

> I'm emotional about the all-star weekend, so here's this draft I started back in November as compensation. I miss Flower more than anything.
> 
> As per usual, I don't own anyone mentioned or depicted. Please remember that RPF is fictional. Don't go and harass NHLers about their love lives over fic.

Honestly, Kris had just been trying to shoot from the back of the ice to the front, wild slapshots towards the boards to entertain himself while the forwards went to a meeting with Sully. He wasn't trying to score, just to clear pucks, letting Olli and Dumo field them back while they worked on their edges.

Flower was prowling in front of the net, digging his blades in deep and snarling at anyone who came within five feet of his crease. Kris couldn't tell exactly what Marc was trying to do, but he was shuffling awkwardly and clutching something in his glove in a way that was pointedly abnormal.    


  
It had been going well enough until Olli deflected one of his pucks into Flower's skate. Kris felt his breath catch when the Alpha went completely still, watching as Flower whipped his head around to make direct eye contact with Olli. Kris felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up when Flower growled softly and kicked the puck away. The goalie gently tipped the puck from his glove and set his gloves down, taking slow strides over towards Olli, who was frozen in place near the boards.

Kris's heart beat heavy in his chest, his eyes wide. He had a feeling that Olli had somehow offended their goaltender, and Flower had a tendency to be unpredictable when he was feeling extra possessive. He skated over and tucked his glove under his arm, reaching out with his bare hand and pressing it to Flower’s shoulder.

“Flower,” he whispered, and Flower looked back and gave him a dark glare. Luckily, it gave Olli enough time to duck away and out towards the dressing room, his scent frazzled and brighter than a Beta's should be. Dumo followed him off, looking over his shoulder at Kris with a touch of fear in his eyes.

 

Marc let out a little animalistic grunt, sinking back into his crease silently. It was almost like he was sulking, angry and dark, and it made Kris wary of his friend. He backed up slowly, intending to make a quick exit like Olli, but he was stopped in his tracks when Flower snarled deeply and skated over to him. His strides were slow and sinuous, perfect little pushes that barely caused his muscles to tense. Marc didn't slow until he was inches in front of him, blowing snow into the boards as he stopped and causing Kris to press back against the boards. He gasped when Flower curled a hand around his throat, tilting his head to the side so he could lean down to nose at his neck.

 

Kris's heart had been beating fast before, but it was jackrabbiting against his ribcage now. Marc's eyes were dark, and when he spoke, it was in French, not English. 

“What would you look like down on the ice?” Flower murmured, his voice almost a full octave deeper than it normally was. He flicked his eyes down suggestively. To Kris's horror, the rink seemed to be completely empty—just him and the goalie against the boards.

“Flower, let go,” Kris said, voice raspy as panic bubbled up inside him. He didn't think Flower would make a move on an unclaimed Omega, especially not in public, but it didn't stop him from pushing Marc away roughly. “Not here.”

 

Flower froze, jerking back like he'd been burned. “Kris,” he whispered, scooting back quickly and almost tripping over his own stick. “Fuck, Kris, I'm so sorry.” His cheeks were flushed high already, and he stared at his own hand like it was covered in blood.

Kris nodded weakly, his head spinning, trying to ignore the way his body had reacted to the close contact. “Yeah,” he whispered, shaking slightly. “It's okay. Just rut, I know you can't help it. Better me than Olli.”

 

He had nothing against the other defenseman, but Alphas could and had been kicked out of the league for misconduct. Kris, despite whatever he probably  _ should _ do, would never report one of his teammates. It was a show of good faith, and it had been conditioned in him since the day he was born that he, as an Omega, existed to be marked and claimed. Omega discrimination was far less common in America than it was in Montreal, but it didn't stop people from being disdainful when an Omega came forth with… allegations.

 

Flower smiled sheepishly, but Kris could see the shame and regret in his eyes. “It's close to my rut, yeah? I should probably take off,” he mumbled to himself, giving Kris plenty of space. Kris took in deep breaths, trying to calm his own wildly colorful scent. He vaguely registered the arousal in the back of his mind, but he shoved it down deep. “Are we okay?”

Kris squeezed Flower's hand gently and nodded before skating away. He needed a moment to get himself together.

 

\--

 

After making sure Olli knew he was alright, Kris slid into the shower as soon as he possibly could. His panic had subsided as he walked into the dressing room, away from Alpha pheromones and Flower's guilty glances and the general societal pressure that came with being a stupid Omega. 

He let out an exhausted sigh as the warm water ran down his back, soothing the ache in his muscles and washing the last of Marc's scent down the drain. He rested his head against the cold shower wall, closing his eyes and just letting himself relax. Even if Flower was an Alpha, he was still his friend and teammate, and Kris trusted him more than almost anyone else. It helped that he was older too, more in control of his emotions than he had been in their earlier seasons.

It didn’t matter what Kris thought, though—Alphas weren't allowed to play within two weeks of their yearly rut, sheerly because the surge of hormones made them so damn volatile. Failure to notify the officials about an Alpha’s rut was worth a ten-day suspension, but that didn't stop many of them from getting territorial outside of the two-week window. 

(Based on what the team was dealing with now, “many of them” had become “Flower.”)

 

Kris was still lost in his thoughts when the bathroom door creaked open. He didn't notice the soft  thud __ of pads hitting the floor, but what he did notice was the glass sliding door to the shower being thrown open.

Being in the NHL made Kris basically immune to being nude around other people, but that didn't mean he was above shouting one of his favorite  _ sacres _ and cowering in the corner when Flower slipped in and leaned against the door. 

He was still wearing his boxers and undershirt, for which Kris was thankful, and he was grinning rather than growling. Flower chuckled lightly, giving Kris one of his playful smiles. “Got you,” he murmured, sliding back into his native tongue. “Just a prank, Tanger. You don't have to look like I'm going to murder you when you're not even wearing shorts.”

Kris sputtered and threw his shampoo at Marc, forgetting that the latter was a goaltender until he batted the bottle out of midair as easily as he would a stray puck. 

“Get out,” Kris seethed, feeling flush rise up in his cheeks. He had been humiliated enough today, and Marc’s scent when he was at his most vulnerable was  _ not _ helping. 

Kris knew his own discomfort was noticeable when  Flower's smile faded. “Sorry,” he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair softly. “I didn't… I didn't think about that. I'll let you alone,” he mumbled, but he didn't move yet. It was like he was asking Kris to ask  _ him _ to stay.

 

If there was one thing that was considered to be a universal truth of hockey, it was that goaltenders were fucking  _ weird _ . They almost had to be, to let people shoot frozen rubber discs at them for a living, but it was true nonetheless. It was like they all followed their own secret set of rules.

Alpha Goalies were a whole different animal. Their ruts seemed to last longer than even the moodiest forwards’, and they always seemed to select one specific person to spend their rut with. Flower stood out in this way—t he netminder had never come to him specifically, but Kris had heard enough from Sid and Jake to make an educated guess about his mating tendencies. Flower was always careful and considerate, and for this Kris was grateful. He'd been with Alphas who were neither.

 

It was clear that Marc was trying to make a proposition. Maybe his display earlier was only part of it, but now he was afraid to hurt Kris's feelings or encroach into his space. It made Kris's heart flutter to think that an Alpha would bother to take his feelings into account, and he smiled shyly at the Alpha after a moment of contemplation. “It's okay,” he whispered, as he had earlier, “if you want to spend…  _ it _ with me. But you have to ask.”

Flower's whole expression softened, and he took a cautious step forwards. He pressed his hand to Kris's cheek, and the Omega leaned into it willingly, offering his throat. Flower made a noise somewhere between a growl and a purr, leaning in to gently nose at the rivulets of water running down Kris’s neck.

“Omega,” Marc began, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of Kris's jaw in a manner that made the Omega's knees weak, “would you like to spend my rut with me?”

Kris hummed softly, leaning into Flower's body willingly. “Mhmmm,” he hummed, smiling playfully as he nipped at Flower's ear. “I think that would be acceptable, if you let me nest in your bedroom.”

Flower growled louder, his grip tightening around Kris's waist. “Anything for my 'mega,” he replied, and Kris gasped, an unexpected shiver running down his spine. Nobody gave Marc as much credit as he deserved for his strength, and as Kris leaned back in his grip, he felt feather-light. 

 

Flower’s thin shirt was more than soaked through under the spray of the water, and it clung to his abdominal muscles in a way that should probably be against the law. Kris looked up at Flower and reached out carefully, pressing his hand flat against them and shivering when the softness of his stomach didn't give much at all. “Alpha,” he gasped, desperation in his voice as he grappled at the man's shirt. “Off.”

Marc hummed in approval and slid the shirt off, far too slow for Kris's liking, but it was coming off and  _ fuck _ if Kris wasn't ready to finally touch skin to skin. He pressed his nose to Flower's neck, inhaling deeply. Flower curled his fingers into Kris's hair, holding him there gently and purring appreciatively above him, proud and regal and smelling just this side of rut. It made Kris's stomach drop down into his dick and back up again.

 

Almost as if he had sensed Kris's shift in attention, Marc let out a noise that could only be considered feral. He pinned Kris back to the shower wall and dragged chapped lips over his neck. Kris let the heady smell of rut wash over him, sinking against Marc and whining when he felt the outline of Flower's cock against his thigh. Marc opened his mouth and bit down at the crux of Kris's neck and shoulder, leaving a pretty imprint of perfect teeth in his wake. 

A groan choked its way out of Kris's throat as he finally got his hand between their bodies, sliding his fingers between Marc's skin and waistband and playing them along the dark curls there. Marc hummed appreciatively, straightening his head to kiss the defenseman soft on the mouth, finally closing the space between them with open-mouthed kisses.

When Marc gripped Kris's hips, Kris shuddered and exhaled into their shared breath. He curled his fingers around the heavy weight of Marc's cock, stroking gently as he reached back with his free hand to shove the Alpha's boxers down to his thighs. Marc took a step back and kicked the offending garments away, long forgotten the moment they hit the floor.

 

Kris leaned back against the wall and took in Marc's form. It wasn't like he hadn't seen him nude before, but he certainly had never had permission to really  _ look _ . Marc had a birthmark on his right hip, a thin scar that cut from ankle to knee, a fading bruise on his chest from where he'd made a killer save the night before. They were imperfections, yes, but they made Marc that much more beautiful—human and alive and somehow _ here _ where Kris could see and touch and feel. 

Marc met Kris's eyes and smiled softly, a gentle flush in his cheeks that made Kris realize that Marc was probably just as scared as he was, even with the pre-rut hormones in his system. “ _ Mon fleur _ ,” Kris whispered as he sunk down to his knees, just like Marc had asked earlier, obediently leaning his head against Marc's thigh. He kissed the mark on Flower’s hip, lingering for a second before pressing his mouth to the side of the Alpha's cock, feeling the knot already swelling softly near the base.

Marc groaned softly, moving to tangle his hands in Kris's hair again. Smiling against him, Kris looked up innocently, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses up the underside of Marc's cock as he worshipped him slowly. He knew, absently, that they didn't have time; but as he finally slipped the head into his mouth he was already so high on Alpha-scent he couldn't be assed to care.

 

Commentators could say whatever the hell they wanted to about Kris's plays on the ice, but one thing was for certain: he knew exactly how to move to keep his goalie happy. Kris had been told he gave head exactly like he played, toned and careful but all-in. He would leave no detail unplanned.

 

Kris found out he was doing his job almost too well when Marc pulled back on Kris's hair and let out a sharp hiss. Kris pulled off with a pop and looked up proudly, lips swollen and spit-slick as he pressed a final teasing kiss to Marc's slit. Marc growled softly, but his eyes darkened even more at the next words out of Kris's mouth.

“I want you to knot me, Alpha,” Kris whispered, standing up to his full height again and kissing Marc deeply. “Right here, where anyone could walk in and see. Want them all to know.”

 

Kris guessed that it was the straw that broke the camel's back, and before he knew it Marc was moving. He pinned Kris back to the wall and slipped a slim finger into Kris's already slick hole. Marc smirked softly at the mewl that forced its way out of Kris's throat, working his lover open slowly and carefully until Kris was begging for him to speed up already in a colorful mix of French and English.

Kris went still when Marc finally pulled his fingers out, whimpering at the loss and giving Marc a broken, needy look. “Alpha…” he murmured.

Marc cooed softly, pressing the blunt head of his cock against Kris's hole, teasing but not moving yet. “What do you say, baby?” He taunted, nipping at the mark he'd made on Kris's shoulder. Kris couldn't help but melt beneath him.

 

“Please, Flower… Marc. Please knot me,” he begged again, whining soft and sweet in his Alpha's ear. He was squirming in Marc's grip, his eyes half-lidded but bright as he pleaded.

Marc chuckled to himself, grinding against Kris gently. “Fuck,  _ chaton _ , how could I not when you ask so nicely?” He teased, and then he was sliding in deep, and oh God, Kris thought he was never going to come down. Marc was thick and hot and hard inside of him, and he was leaking everywhere but he didn't care because it was  _ so fucking good _ .

Kris moaned again, unashamed now, back arched sinfully as he chased Marc's cock. He was already trying to bounce, sweat shining on his neck like he'd just finished a double shift, but Marc held him firmly in his lap as he slid in. Kris thought he might actually die if Marc didn't start moving right fucking now.

 

It took them a few thrusts to find a good rhythm, but soon enough Kris was dragging his nails down Marc's back, begging for release as tears brimmed in his eyes. Marc snarled and bit down on Kris's shoulder again as he spent, leaving a matching bruise on the other side of his neck. Kris mewled as he felt Marc’s knot take and gasped as he found his own release. Thick ropes of come covered their stomachs as he sank back against the wall, relying on Marc to hold him up.

He didn't remember much after that; he just kept his face tucked in Marc's shoulders as they both came down. They stayed like that for a while, sharing soft breaths in comfortable silence until Marc’s knot finally softened enough to pull out. 

 

Still on the warm edges of afterglow, Kris looked up at him blearily. Marc carried him back under the shower head, the water somehow still warm despite what must have been at least half an hour of fucking. He let Marc wash the sweat and come off his chest and stomach before turning around to kiss him properly, wrapping soapy hands around Marc’s neck as he leaned up into it. 

Marc hummed in approval at that, kissing him sweet and kind and loving. “My Kris,” he whispered into it, closing his eyes and smiling softly as he grabbed Kris's soft towel from the rack and wrapped it around him.

 

Kris smiled sleepily, leaning against Flower's bare chest and murmuring in agreement as the taller man picked him up and carried him towards his shelf. 

“Love you,” he slurred shyly, knowing damn well they probably wouldn't acknowledge this ever again after Marc's rut. He didn't want to think about that right now, though. He had Marc for the week, and he was going to make it count.

 

\--

 

The next day at practice, Sid knew he smelled furious, wondering why the hell his starting goalie and best defenseman had just fucked off into the sunset without saying a thing. 

At the end of practice, he turned to Olli, planning to go off, but the blueliner just smiled. “Alphas are weird,” he said meaningfully, looking over at where Geno was shouting at a rookie from across the ice. “Besides, looks like you'll be dealing with the same thing soon…” 

 

That shut Sid right up, and Olli skated away with a huge smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://evgenismalkin.tumblr.com).


End file.
